Pansy ParkinsonPotter
by laserbeamsky
Summary: Just because I wanted to write a HPPP fic.


It all started one night in sixth year; I was lying in bed. It was past midnight, and I was anxious. I couldn't stop thinking, thoughts kept whirling round in my head, flying past; I could see images, like the thumbnails of thoughts, if you will, but they kept slipping away from me. I grew frustrated trying to slow my mind down, so I decided to go for a walk.

Ron was asleep in the bed next to me, so I had to be careful. Lifting my head up slightly from my pillow, I reached through the curtains to silently snatch my glasses from the side table and peeked through the red curtains around my bed. Not being able to see enough, I sat up slowly and pulled the curtains aside, only to reveal a passed out Ron. It was not a pretty sight: he was on his stomach, his face to the side with a wide, drooling mouth, his bum was sticking up and an awkward angle and he was snoring so loud it sounded like one of those muggle chainsaws they used to cut down the trees in the playground on Privet Drive.

I glanced around the room quickly, making sure that the others were fast asleep, which they of course were. Dean and Seamus were in the same bed, actually. Odd. I never realize that before…maybe they were…? No. That's ridiculous.

Anyway, I quietly slid out from under the covers, and placed my feet in their warm slippers. I grabbed the invisibility cloak from under my bed and tiptoed out of the room, being extra careful around Neville's bed. I knew that he was a light sleeper.

I put the cloak on when I was on the stairs, just in case anyone was in the common room. Good thing I did too, because there were two people kissing furiously on the sofa in front of the fireplace. How on earth had Parvati managed to sneak Fred in? He was supposed to be at the shop, or maybe at the Burrow. He was meant to be somewhere causing trouble with George, not making out with Parvati. I'll have to remember to ask her how she managed that when I see her at the next Burrow gathering. She's currently expecting Fred's fourth child, unbelievably. But back to my story.

I walked past the two fondling each other on the couch and went through the painting as normal. Parvati and Fred didn't even notice it swing open and closed, they were so preoccupied with each other's tongues.

Once I was out in the corridor, just me alone in the dark, I felt…alive. Rejuvenated. I felt another shot of energy course through my veins, but it felt good now, good that I was thinking at four hundred miles a minute, and I grinned to myself.

The school felt like it was mine for the taking. I walked around wherever I wanted, feeling completely and totally in control, never once even suspecting there was another person around for what felt like hours, a silent eternity.

I was walking up the last few stairs leading to the floor where the transfiguration classrooms were when I saw someone. At the sound of my footsteps, her head turned towards me sharply, like a cat. Startled, being the fool that I am, at that specific moment I stood on the edge of the cloak and it fell to the found, revealing me to her.

Big blue eyes met mine from behind a blunt, curtain-like fringe of dark brown hair. I realized who it was instantly; only one person in the school had hair like that and legs like those.

As much as I hated Pansy Parkinson, she had grown out of those pug-like features into ones akin more to a goddess. Theodore Nott, after whom she'd trailed for years, was finally interested in her. She had changed her mind. I remembered seeing her gliding out of the great hall a number of times with him flitting after her, trying so hard to impress her. Most of the boys tried as well, to be perfectly honest.

It didn't seem to ever work, as she remained purposefully and stubbornly single.

She stood there, in the middle of the corridor, and narrowed her eyes at me. She pointed at me roughly, and then beckoned me into an empty classroom. Rather menacingly, I might add.

So you can imagine my surprise when, after shutting the door to block out the noise of any potential fighting, I saw her sitting on the teacher's desk, legs crossed and sucking a lollipop. No glares, no sneers, no looks of disgust. She just sat there innocently, wide-eyed with the lollipop in her mouth.

She saw the way my eyes trailed over her body, from creamy thighs to her signature red lipstick that she even wore in the early hours of morning, from the way her fringe fluttered in the slight breeze to her dainty little ankles, and I thought I saw a smirk play on those blood red lips.

We stood there in silence – well, I stood and she sat – for what felt like infinity. I felt myself redden whenever she took the lollipop out of her mouth because she would lick it and then put it back in, drawing my attention to just how sensually she was sucking on the damn thing. Thinking about it now, she must've known what it was doing to me. She couldn't have been that innocent; I mean, she was Pansy Parkinson after all.

Eventually I realized that as much as I enjoyed looking at her, I probably ought to have said something. You just don't go sit and perv on your enemy every day, now do you.

I stammered, unfortunately, as I was trying to speak. "Wh-what do you want?" She just raised an eyebrow at me. How is it that all Slytherins knew how to do that? But, she didn't reply. She just took the lollipop out of her mouth and licked her lips.

I gulped.

"Why did you beckon me in here?" At this, she dropped the half-eaten lollipop in the bin, pushed herself off the desk and strutted towards me, her hips swinging in perfect rhythm, never once dropping eye contact. She didn't stop until her nose nearly grazed my chin. I, still frozen in surprise, didn't move. She tilted her head up so that my eyes were in line with hers.

"Well," she replied in her husky voice, "I'm curious." This just served to make me very nervous. "Er," I responded, "curious about what exactly?" She began to walk around me with her fingertips lightly touching my torso, much in the way that a wild beast circles its prey. I could feel the light scrape of her fingernails through my white t-shirt, and, oddly enough, I liked it. When she was back in front of me, she deftly picked up the drawstring of my pajama bottoms and twirled them in between her fingers. I couldn't decide if I was uncomfortable or horribly, horrible turned on.

"Well," she purred in response to my question, "I've been hearing some…rumors about you. You and your…" she leaned up to whisper in my ear, "abilities."

I had a feeling I knew what she was talking about, but, seeing as how I remained a naive little twit until later in my life, I wasn't completely sure. However, for some reason I had lost all ability to speak, thus asking Pansy to elaborate was next to impossible. Luckily enough, she continued anyway, "you see, in a school like ours, news travels fast." She carried on playing with my drawstring; "due to your former…predicament with one Miss Slutty Weasley-" I couldn't help but crack a sheepish smile at that. I had dated Ginny, but only for two months earlier that year. After I broke up with her she had made her way through Seamus Finnegan, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, a few other boys from her year who I don't know, and even, very surprisingly, a few girls. Ron had mini aneurysms every time he heard about his little sister's escapades with half the school.

One thing that could be said about Ginny was that, despite having the looks of an angel, she was the biggest gossip in the school. Every time she had a juicy piece of information that had yet to be revealed, one could always tell because her eyes would grow to double their size, and it looked like her caramel colored eyes had melted. She still does this, years after exiting the teen era of her life. Some things never change.

It was due to this quality of Ginny's, however, that the mishaps and the achievements of her conquests became general knowledge of the student (and teacher) population. Apparently I had some sort of talent worthy enough that Ginny had shared to make Pansy Parkinson, of all people, willingly fiddle with something near my crotch. Now, Ginny and I had gotten quite far with one another, in fact, we'd lost our virginities to one another in what can only be described as an embarrassing, awkward experience. It was over and done with, and we had had sex plenty of times after the first time, after doing all the other stuff that comes before it, so what happened next wasn't entirely because I was an inexperienced horny little teenage boy.

Well, not because I was inexperienced that's for sure.

With Pansy's hands constantly making slight movements in that particular vicinity, and with her shifting closer and closer to me so that I could smell the coconut from her hair, I got hard.

In the middle of an empty classroom. Before dawn. During the early stages of Scottish spring.

Because of Pansy fucking Parkinson.

Needless to say, the mortification I felt when she looked into my face was unbearable. I looked away, willing her to saunter out the door and forget all about this. I was expecting her to laugh at me, to mock me and then tell the entire school what had just happened. What I was not expecting was for her to reach down and cup my affected area with her small, cool hands.

My face snapped towards hers, open-mouthed in shock. She just grinned at me. Slowly, my face softened into a weak smile. For the first time, I summoned my courage, lifted my arm, and pulled Pansy Parkinson towards my by the waist.

The silence was killing me. It was either that, or the sexual tension. I can't remember exactly. Either way, her shirt ended up on the floor along with my own. Pretty soon afterwards, her bottoms, bra and knickers flew into the air, arching above our heads joined at the lips. With us being connected by the mouth in a tangled position on the floor, removing the rest of my clothes proved frustrating. That is, until Pansy growled and saw fit to – literally – rip them off my body. The shreds of my clothes were tossed aside, forgotten completely.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

That night, I had made her writhe in pleasure whilst alternately growling and screaming my name.

The next night, I did it again.

And the next night after that.

And now, four years later, I take great pride in saying that I can still have her thrash about in ecstasy within five minutes of seeing her.


End file.
